If You Shout Surprise!
by X-Hayze-chan-X
Summary: In which Sollux is manic, and Karkat just happens to be in the wrong place at the right time. Mind tentacles ensue, among other things. For the Homestuck kink meme!


**A/N: For the Homestuck kink meme! The prompt was: **

_****Sollux/Karkat**  
>We need more SolluxKarkat. We will always need more Sollux/Karkat probably, just as a general rule. So I was thinking, with all of his freakish abnormalities and presumed abnormalities, Sollux probably makes a for fucking decent lay. I would like a Sol/KK fic focusing on one or more of Sollux's following traits:**_

_**Psionics. I'm a huge sucker for this and would love you forever.**_  
><em><strong>Twin tongues. Endless fun. Probably make for amazing blow jobs among other shenanigans.<strong>_  
><em><strong>Twin dicks. Double penetration for the win.<strong>_  
><em><strong>Whatever else you can thing of. You're probably more creative than I am. ;)<strong>_

_**If possible, I would very much appreciate it if fills stick to Sollux/Karkat.**_

**Keep in mind that this is my first kink meme fill _ever_, for _any_ fandom. **

**Warnings: Psychic bondage, double penetration, oral, anal, "vaginal", hermaphrodites, gay sex, tentacles, and _consensual_ rape. If you don't like any of this, back the fuck off right now. Please.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Homestuck or Sollux or Karkat or really anything. Don't sue?**

**Alright, 2940 words! Hopy shit! Enjoy, guys! And anon, I hope I did 0k!**

Karkat Vantas was never the happiest troll, and he was full of hate. Anyone could that the young man practically breathed rage and hatred. Of course, there was the thought that he could feel nothing else, since nobody seemed to realize how much he truly cared, and how much of his rage and hatred was fabricated, or directed at himself, or both... but there was one troll who saw it. One troll who saw it and pitied him above all else.

Sollux Captor.

Yes, you. Oh, it's awkward for sure, being flushed for your best friend. It's even more awkward when you aren't sure whether you pity him or hate him, due to your bipolar fits. Most of the time, you pity him above all else; after all, he's full of so much anger, so much hurt, all the secrets... you don't want him to have to feel like he does. If you could just hold him and kiss him and make him feel better, you'd definitely die a happy troll when your time comes. Of course, it would be soon, and it wasn't likely for you to get up your courage to act on your feelings and risk losing your best friend forever. Yes, that old cliche.

Of course, then there are the times when you're manic. When you can't sleep and you just work and work and break things and scream and hurt yourself and work and laugh until you feel like you pass out and work and think. You think and think about Karkat Vantas, and the more you think the less you can stand him. He's too angry, too secretive. You hate the feeling you get when you look at him, that pity tugging at your vascular pump, and it frustrates you. You know you can't have him, you could never have him, will never, and that just makes it all so much worse. Times when you want to both throttle him and make sweet, passionate love to him until he cries and the both of you go limp from exhaustion.

Times like now.

Now usually, you're in this mood in the comfort of your own hive, and you can just tantrum "quietly" without getting him involved past some heavy trolling. However, your planet is now gone, and you're huddled up in a stupid fucking asteroid with all of your "friends". You try to confine yourself to your block, knowing that if you let your mania get the better of you it's all over, and maybe if you do that you can just trick yourself into thinking Karkat isn't just a portal away, and you have nothing to risk, nothing to fear.

And then reality hits you with a ton of bricks when that same troll walks into your makeshift respiteblock. You freeze for a moment, and he's yelling at you. Something about how he hasn't seen you for a day and he was starting to think you'd keeled over because you can't take care of yourself. Condescending prick. It angers you; you're practically inflamed in just a minute, and before you know it your psionics are crackling around you, and he's pressed up against the wall. He falls silent, and you smirk, showing off your massive fangs.

"What the hell, Sollux?" he shouts, trying to mask his fear. You're his friend, right? You wouldn't hurt him. You're sure that's what's going through his thinkpan, and it makes you laugh, a chilling sound that even startles you, before you walk forward like a lion stalking its prey and fist your hands in his shirt, pulling him forward to initiate a violent kiss. Your teeth clack together and you force your tongues into his mouth. They twine around his, and when you pull back you bite at his lower lip, hard enough for blood to well up. Just a pinprick, but you stare at it, then shake your head. So that's what he's been hiding. He should know not to hide it from you; you're a freak too, after all. He should be able to trust you. The thought enrages you more, and you grab his hair and bite at his neck, ignoring his protests. You want more of that blood, suddenly; it's exciting, enticing, and you want more, more, more.

He pushes you away, though, finding just enough strength to overpower your psionics. You hadn't put much power behind it anyway, but you let him think he's had that little win.

"What the fuck, Sollux?" he asks again, trying to move his hands to hide his blood. You don't let him, though. Suddenly, you feel like Terezi, were she half-mad; you want that delicious candy red, now that you've seen it, and you'll do anything to get it.

"I pity you, jackath," you spit (quite literally, due to your lisp), glare fully in place. "I've pitied you for tho long, but Gog, right now I can't fucking thtand you."

Of course, he's not an idiot, despite all the jabs you make at the mutantblood's intelligence. It takes him a bit longer than it would you, but he puts two and two together and his eyes widen. "You're in a fucking mood, aren't you?"

"Doethn't mean I'm not thpeaking the truth," you retort. "You'd never pity me, I know that, but I'll be damned if I can't make you hate me." You smirk again, but his next words make you falter.

"Who the fuck says I can't?"

At this point, it feels like your mind has shut down. You can't even hear the voices; it's like you're a newly hatched grub, knowing nothing but instinct. And that instinct drives you to kiss him again, a little less violently this time. But remarkably, he kisses back, and your vascular pump does a backflip.

It's a wonder that you don't go into a complete mood swing. If there were any time to do it, it would be now. However, your moods have never made sense, and they probably never, ever will. The one time you expect a mood swing, then, it doesn't happen, and you pull away, just as angry as before. "If that'th the cathe," you whisper in a rather sultry way that you never even thought you were capable of, "then you won't mind if I take thith up a notch."

He looks like he's about to protest, but you pin him to the wall with your powers and snake out red and blue tentacles of thought to rove over his body, ripping off clothes. Your eyes scan his body over red and blue glasses, and you have to say you like the view. This is especially true when you get down to his groin, and you're delighted to find that he's half erect already. He squirms, and his brief moment of speechlessness is over before he's growling at you. Oh, he's going to play your game; how lovely. His breath hitches each time a tentacle brushes over a sensitive spot, and you're finding all his weaknesses, all of them. You apply a bit of mental suction to each of his horns, a constant, milking touch, and he makes a noise that has your pants far too tight for comfort. Still, the feeling of being fully clothed while he's completely exposed in front of you... It feels good to dominate the fearless leader.

"Had enough?" you ask. He gasps as your physical fingers brush against the head of his bulge, but shakes his head nonetheless. Good. If he wasn't so damn stubborn, this wouldn't be half as fun.

You strip slowly, your own clothes coming off, and he stares at your twin bulges. Oops, you forgot to tell him that wasn't a joke. "Heh. Do you like them?" you ask softly, putting a psionic tendril of thought into his mouth so he can't respond. He makes a noise, and you decide to just take it as an affirmative with how it sounds. "Good," you add with a laugh, "becauthe thethe are going to be inthide you thoon enough."

Predictably, his golden eyes widen. Your bulges are pretty sizeable, and he's got to be tight; after all, you doubt he's ever gotten laid, especially with how adamant he's been on hiding his blood colour. The secret would come the second that he did. Fitting one bulge in one hole is going to be a hassle... imagine if you try to fit two.

That will only make this more fun.

You shoosh him, and step forward, a tendril poking at his entrance. He squirms, but it makes its way in soon enough, and begins steadily pumping in and out, stretching him. He moans around the psychic gag, and it's all just too much. A thought breaches your fucked up brain, and you smirk widely, getting on your knees.

At first, you run your tongues up and down his bulge, and he squirms. You tease him as much as possible, pinning him down so he can't move so much. His breathing grows heavy, and you know he's close to release. Of course, you won't let him reach it. You pull away, and he honest-to-Gog whines. It makes your arousal throb with need, and you trail your tongues downward to run along his shame globes. You keep going, and he thrashes a bit against his bonds as he realizes what you're going to do.

You remove the mental tentacle from his passage. It's been growing steadily, so he'll be stretched enough for your bulges. However, he needs to be lubricated, doesn't he? You almost laugh at the thought of what you're about to do. You've got to be completely, certifiably insane.

And you love every bit of it.

It's a few agonizing seconds - agonizing for him by the way he's squirming and agonizing for you because hell, this is teasing you as much as it is him - before you put one of your tongues inside of him. The taste is... Weird. It's not bad; after all, it's not like this is his waste chute or anything. You run your tongue through his nook before adding the second. You're starting to enjoy the taste, but again you can feel that he's getting close, and you pull back.

At this point, you get an idea. You're not going to be able to fit both of your bulges in his nook at once, but thinking of his waste chute just then... well, now you think you know what to do. His eyes widen exponentially as you stretch his waste chute the same way you did to his nook, though this time without the added benefit of your tongues. This entrance, you decide, will need far more lubrication, so you pull the gag out of his mouth and lubricate him with his own saliva. He's able to get a few breaths in before you shove another tendril of thought down his throat. You can almost see it bulging out of his throat, and it only turns you on more.

You've had enough waiting, dammit, and with that thought you lift him with your powers and flip him over, pressing his face into the floor and getting him on his knees. His back end juts out invitingly, and you can't help but moan at the sight. Now is the moment of truth. You're really about to do this. Are you sure...?

Ha. You don't even need to answer that question. You've wanted this for as long as you can remember, and fuck it, you're not going to give in to remorse. With a thought, the tentacles vanish from within him. Damn, they had gotten really deep. While he's still stretched open, and you can see inside of him, you press your hips forward and bury one bulge deeply into each passage. He lets out a throaty scream, or tries to, and claws at the floor where you've pinned his hands. Jegus, he's tight. You don't give him a moment's reprieve before you're thrusting, hard and fast and deep and it's all just so good. Both of his holes are so tight and you dig your claws into his back, drawing out that beautiful candy red.

Oh, is it enticing. The way his back arches, the way he cries out in pain around your mental protrusion, and you suddenly, desperately want to hear him on top of everything. You get rid of that, too, and it's alright because in your pleasure you're completely unable to keep this up. You regrettably let his bonds go too, but instead of escaping like you expected, he stays where he is, moving his hips back against yours and one hand to his own bulge. This in itself, along with the throaty moans that you realize are all expletives and your name, mixed in with the occasional "Harder" and "Faster" and "Don't stop," this is all you need. You're so close to the edge, you can hardly stand it, and your toes curl in pleasure as you thrust harder. A bucket, you realize. You need a pail. With all the concentration you can muster, you reach out with your mind and one flies from the janitorial closet into your outstretched hand. The cool metal makes you shiver, and you put it down between the two of you. He whimpers in response, and your abdominal muscles clench in aroused anticipation.

"KK... Oh fuck, KK, I'm tho clothe..." you whine, practically keening in your pleasure.

"M-me too... Sollux, fuck, don't you fucking stop," he responds, and then he cries out, and it's your name, loud and pure, and it's all over as his muscles clench around you in his powerful orgasm. You cry out his name - his full name, probably for the first time since you've met him - and spill over into him, filling him with your essence. Torrents of yellow fill him, and you watch, fascinated, as the bright orange mixture spills from his bulge. There's a sort of passage in a troll's nook that goes straight to their bulge, so trolls can fill pails without having to pull out. And fuck, you love biology right now.

Finally, after what seems like forever, it's all out, and the pail is filled to the brim. You shudder as you pull out of him, and then what you've done hits you.

You just raped Karkat Vantas. You raped the troll that you pity above all else in a strikingly stupid fit of mania. You filled him with your genetic material, you stretched him out and put both your bulges inside of him and forced your tongues into his mouth and oh Gog, oh Gog oh Gog oh Gog you've raped him. He probably _will_ hate you now, but only platonically.

You don't notice that you're trembling until you feel warm arms wrap around you, and you flinch. He has every right to kill you, even if his blood is lower than yours. On Alternia, your behaviour might have been socially acceptable... but you'd still hate yourself for it. You're startled from your thoughts by the feeling of lips on your own, warm and grey-black, cracked, enticing. You kiss back for a second, then look at him with wide eyes, as if you were an innocent grub... of course, you're not innocent at all.

"K-KK?" you murmur, almost whimper, confusion written plain on your face.

He doesn't answer immediately, but he pulls back and looks at your face. You're ashamed, and you want to look away, but somehow you just can't. Finally, he flicks you in the forehead. You flinch again, and he sighs.

"First of all... I'm not going to eat you, so calm the fuck down. Second, you were wrong." He pauses, and just as you're about to ask for clarification, he says, "I still don't hate you. I don't think I ever could. I'll probably always pity you..."

And you know you don't deserve it, but your vascular pump is performing spectacular acrobatics again, and you can't help but stare and ask "R-really?"

"Jegus, Captor, you're acting like you just raped me or something," he says, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, and you can only stare. Of course you raped him! Has he gotten into Gamzee's slime or something? As if he can read your mind, he adds, "I never said no. I... Fuck, don't tell _anyone_, but I've wanted that for... for longer than I'd care to admit. I'd never say no. Actually, when you had that damn gag on me, I wasn't saying much but 'fuck yes' and 'more'." His blush is bright now, deep, saturating his entire face.

"I... I'm thtill thorry," you lisp, curling into him. "I hurt you. I made you bleed... And it'th not like I athked or anything, tho..."

He shuts you up with a kiss, and at this point you're so tired and so warm and so lost in his lips that you can't bring yourself to argue. So you've got a few problems... it's nothing you can't work out together.

And next time, you'll be sure to shout "Surprise".


End file.
